This is not The End!
by theblondeknight45
Summary: A one-shot story about the last moments between Batman and The Joker at the end of Arkham City, which gradually turned into a collection of tidbits and side stories concerning characters before, during, and after the events of Arkham Knight. I plan to continue building upon this little universe of mine, so keep an eye open for updates. (Features many characters)
1. This is not The End! (Arkham City)

**So this is just a small one-shot I thought up on the way home on Friday, ha ha. It was a tad different, originally, but I'm more or less happy with how this turned out. **

**This is most definitely not a yaoi story, but...one could interpret it that way, I suppose. I didn't write it that way, but I'm not gonna tell you how to interpret it. To me, the idea of The Joker loving anyone in the conventual sense is true madness, but I think in his own twisted way, he does love Batman. Not romantically or lustfully, though he toys with Batman by once in a while making it seems so. I guess it works a little bit more that way with Harley, but his first and truest love is Batman and the fun he can have with The Dark Knight. **

**As always, I love to see those reviews!**

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Dust flittered down as Batman regained consciousness and swallowed hard. His ears rang and he looked to his arm with hazy eyes and felt the vial with the Titan cure still firm in place. With an effort, he pushed himself off the ground and struggled upwards.

"Quick! The cure!" The Joker cried in panic from the shadows of the Lazarus Pit room.

Batman reached his feet and stood still, silently reflecting on the situation.

"What are you waiting for? C'mon!" Joker continued, "I killed your girlfriend, poisoned Gotham, and _hell_...it's not even breakfast." He broke off to giggle and cough for a second before forcing his voice outwards again, "BUT SO WHAT? We all know you'll save me."

Batman had been staring down at the sacred, blue liquid in the clear and fragile vial in his hand. He clenched it a little harder, tempted to smash it into hundreds of pieces and condemn his worst enemy and living nightmare once and for all, but he resisted.

"Every decision you've ever made ends with death and misery," Batman noted solemnly, gazing into the cure like he was in a daydream and releasing his hold on it, as if to let if fall and shatter instead, "People die. I stop you. You'll just break out and do it again." Batman's grip on the cure slowly came back and he held it tightly once more, unable to let The Joker die.

Joker answered with a short, deep coughing, slowly creeping behind his long time adversary without Batman's knowledge, "Think of it as a running GAG!"

He shanked a knife into Batman's shoulder with a smile, causing the hero to briefly cry out in the shock and sudden pain. He dropped the cure and the vial fell, almost in slow motion, as The Joker watched on, helpless to save it.

It hit the ground and instantly the glass shards scattered on the ground.

"Nooooo!" Joker painfully screamed and was thrown to the side by Batman's superb reflexes. The hero grasped the knife and plucked it out swiftly; the villain anxiously crawled over to try and save himself. He put his face onto the ground and attempted unsuccessfully to sip up the blue medicine that was seeping into the old cracks in the concrete floor. He ingested a little, but it wasn't enough to save him. He knew it all to well, and gave up after a few sips and attempted handfuls of cure.

"Are you happy now?" Joker asked angrily.

He growled lowly as he sat back onto his knees, a scowl on his face and eyes that shone with bitter defeat.

Do you want to know something funny?" Batman asked with his hand on the stab wound to stop the bleeding, "Even after everything you've done...I would have saved you."

Joker, reclined into a sitting position and staring out into the immense darkness before him, processed the information and laughed with a little of the natural albeit sick charisma that he was known for; it was all he could muster.

"That actually is," he paused to cough and hack once more, "pretty funny."

Batman removed his hand to check the wound briefly, then put it back in place, staying quiet as Joker watched the floor again. He seemed to be a man searching for an answer that had eluded him all his life. Maybe he would find it at last, here at the end of all things. Batman didn't quite know if he should, or even could, say anything, so he stayed quietly standing and watching his old nemesis.

Sparks continued to flicker on and off from the background and the same dust flittered down from far above in the old Monarch Theatre. Joker's breathing had become a bit shallower, and he was using his mouth, breathing through clenched teeth and barely open lips, in accordance with his nose.

The moment was etching itself into Batman's mind more and more vividly as he realized that his most dangerous foe, the only man who could have possibly caused him more pain than the man who killed his parents that fateful night, was about to die.

Skin was hanging off the Clown's face, and his body, always skinny and fine, was nearly anorexic and frail. He could see red stains, no doubt blood Joker had gotten onto his shirt somehow. The only things that remained full of life and, more than anything else, ambition, were Joker's eyes. They were defiant in the face of death, but even The Joker could not escape death's long reach, not every time.

"You know…" Joker finally mused aloud, "I had such plans." He stopped to cough and brought his right arm to his mouth as more blood-infused spittle was coughed onto the purple suit.

"I...I had such a grand scheme ahead for Gotham. I could have been a King."

"I would have stopped you either way," Batman replied. Grim and cruel as it was, The Joker deserved nothing less. Even that was too kind a remark, and Batman knew it. So then why did it feel so overly bitter?

Joker's face was staring weakly into Batman's cowl, and it now seemed that the villain was in a daydream.

"You said something like that once before...a long time ago." The confidence brimming in Joker's voice clearly faltered, and a sense of melancholy fell over him as both men thought back to the night as Joker's narration set the stage.

"You remember, don't you? It was," coughing overtook him, "a few months before I killed your side kick…" and again, more fiercely, breaking his smile,"or...perhaps a few months after…"

…

Shadows moved quietly and begrudgingly across the rooftops of Gotham and the full moon was shrouded by the clouds of a cold September night. The abandoned Chemicals Factory rang with two sounds only. Gunshots and wild, erratic laughter.

Two thugs, under Penguin's employ, crept along the railing, peering down into the madness of the war zone below them as Joker's goons battled with their allies.

"Did you find the barrels yet?" One of the thugs questioned, screaming so that the other would hear.

"I can't see jack! We might as well pull out now and cut our losses! I don't want to die here!"

"Penguin will kill us anyways if we return empty-handed!"

"Maybe, but would you rather deal with...that?"

Underneath them, the Joker was walking undeterred into no man's land, strutting around with his iconic gun, dubbed by the worst of Gotham including the Clown himself, the Ace of Spades. One shot was powerful enough to tear right through you, and if you were close by a friend, it might just kill him too. The gun was a perfect analogy for its owner, so deadly just being around it held a serious chance of getting you killed.

Joker didn't seem to notice the bullets at all, or the all consuming noise in the plant either. He took the time to make out the next target, look the man in the eye and spell out his death seconds before it came. No one could touch him, because he didn't want to be touched.

"Good point, let's get out of here!"

"What's in those barrels anyways?"

"I don't know, the city wants to do some testing with them, or maybe outsource them to some medical establishment or research firm, that's about all I know!"

The railing they scampered across was shaken as an explosion occurred near one of the support beams and the entire structure toppled to the side, nearly throwing the men off and into certain doom. Now hanging perilously over the battle, the men ventured forward with their hands, gripping the railing firmly and shuffling towards the ledge a good 12 yards away.

Another explosion knocked the railing around even more and the two fell just before they reached the ledge. Two hands reached out from the shadows and saved them, pulling them up to sanctuary before knocking them out cold.

"Stay out of sight!" Batman commanded.

"I know!" Batgirl replied somewhat hotly and grappled off as Batman found the source of the immense strife.

The Joker had created a wealth of corpses and the remainder of his forces were running through the factory, shooting down anyone not in their ranks. The Clown himself had cornered three men with no more ammunition, and they were all shaking, begging for their lives.

"Step up one and all, there's plenty of death to go around!"

Joker casually walked up to the first of the three, sticking the gun into the goon's face while his comrades watched helplessly from behind.

"I'm a man of fairness. Pick your poison! Bullet, knife? Gas?"

"W-What?" The goon could only shake his head and quiver in fear.

"Fine, I'll pick," Joker reached out and grabbed the man's face, an electric current raging all throughout his body as the villain laughed and enjoyed the splendor of his work.

"Was that an electrifying experience for you too?" Joker mused with a wide smile and stepped over to the next one, who stumbled backwards into his fellow, knocking them both down.

"You there, your face looks a bit empty, let's plug the hole before you lose everything!" Joker took a knife from his sleeve and stuck it into the man's ear as the last goon tried to claw his way out of the corner he'd been pushed to. He pulled down a tarp to reveal several crates, tightly sealed.

They caught Joker's attention and he paused to look at them, going so far as to walk right over the fearful thug and inspect the crates up close.

"You've been a big help," Joker sincerely told the last goon, "I think I know just how to thank you!"

The Ace of Spades was thrust into the man's face and just before Joker could pull the trigger, Batman rocketed down atop him, sending the gun sliding across the floor.

The Caped Crusader threw Joker backwards, onto his back. The hero jumped on top of the criminal mastermind and repeatedly attacked him, showing no mercy or regret, pummeling the Clown until he bled severely.

"Batman!" His ally called from a distance, calming the dark hero down and causing him to stand up and give The Joker a little space.

"You know...you're getting darker and darker every time! When are you finally going to end me?"

"Don't tempt me," Batman retorted, placing his foot atop The Joker's chest and just barely pressing down.

A pained grin flashed on the Clown's face as he asked out of curiosity, "Do you even know what's in those barrels?"

Batman looked over at the crates, an odd logo on each one. A stylized "P" on a pink background. It looked vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't pull out any names or products.

"Do you realize what I could've done with that? What I'm _going_ to do with that?" He laughed maniacally before Batman's foot pressed down harder.

"So what makes them so valuable?" Batgirl asked from the sidelines, apparently done dealing with the other thugs.

"Go ask Penguin, I'm no squealer!" Joker snapped, then laughed again before Batman lost patience and pulled Joker up, throwing him up against the wall and holding a hand on his throat. Batgirl tensed up for a second, but relaxed when Batman allowed The Joker to breath after a good 30 seconds.

"Those crates-among other things-are the key to dominating Gotham." Joker stated as Batgirl broke one open and investigated the contents.

"Just a few different chemicals. Some rare, some painfully common. Nothing overly special here," She reported.

"We'll see. If I had found them a few minutes sooner-"

"I still would have beaten you." Batman finished.

…

"We used to have such fun," Joker said flatly.

"That plot of yours concerning the Pinkney formula gave me a lot of trouble," Batman replied, almost in a different conversation.

"Like I said," coughing, "fun times!" Joker replied, his smile fully regained, if but for a moment alone.

"..." Batman, again, did not respond to his enemy's conversational topic.

"I'm just disappointed...now who'll try and put a big old smile on that sexy puss?" It seemed that a tear, strained and acidic as it was, fell from Joker's wide eye.

"Maybe I always was smiling? Maybe I never should smile again?" His musing was uncharacteristic, but The Joker actually dying was as well. It was a long night, and it was one of exceptions.

"Maybe...I still want to try though….I-"

"You did all you could to bring me-and this city-down...but you never did."

"No…" Joker replied, clearly crying now, "no I didn't…"

It was almost too much to believe, the sight of Joker weeping. He didn't sniffle or cringe or bury his face in his hands, maybe because he couldn't at this point. He just sat complacently, weakly, and let the tears fall. Batman couldn't find the right words, if there were any, for the moment. So he just stood by and watched, counting the tears. 4. 9. 11. 17.

And then it stopped. It stopped at 17, as though The Joker had literally no more tears to give. He perked up, so to say, and his frown turned less melancholy, and eventually it was no longer a frown, but a stern look. And it was gradually evolving into another smile, a weak, poor smile.

"A lot of people hate me because I never killed you," Batman told his nemesis, changing the subject.

Joker's laugh once more devolved into a wild cough, "Well, they can't say that anymore, can they?"

"I didn't kill you."

"Maybe, but what'll they think? Even now, I win. I," he thrust his hand onto his chest, trying to grab his heart it seemed, and he coughed violently, falling onto his back and letting a blood filled vomit leave his mouth, "...I always...win."

"Maybe you did. Maybe I should have killed you. Maybe I should have ended it that first night and let you fall."

"Level with me, Bats…" Joker spoke as he closed his eyes and laid flat, breathing in with some difficulty, "will you miss me?"

"..."

"Good to know." He tried to laugh, but he couldn't and broke out into a heaving spell.

Gotham would be better off without him, he knew it would. Without this animal, Gotham would find some true peace. There would always be need of a Batman, but without a Joker, Gotham would always be able to breath easier. So why did it sting to let him go? Why _this_ much?

"The game is over," Batman said, seemingly in some reflection of his own, "we're finally finished. No more murdering, no more tricks, no more endless struggle."

"Well...we'll have to take a break...we both know...we'll be doing the same thing over...in hell."

"..."

"Hurry up and die now," Joker bade farewell, "I'll be waiting...on...the other...side…"

A few more pained breaths came, and then nothing. The Joker was dead. It was all over.

Batman crouched down over his foe, eyes shut, body still, cold. Joker seemed lost in a dream, trapped in a deep slumber. Or maybe that was just him.

For all his twisted methods and tortured outlooks on life, The Joker was right in a few areas Batman didn't like to think of, mainly in the idea that The Joker completed Batman. Just as he gave meaning to Gotham's worst nightmare, so too did the Clown give meaning to what the very idea of Batman was and is.

Even more so, that they were grim reflections of the other. The "bad day" story was one of Joker's oldest tales, but the details could be fabricated all he'd like; the truth remained. The Joker had a bad day once...maybe several. That pain that etched itself beyond your emotions and your mind and seeped into the nature of your existence...that pain was enough to drive the most peaceful man into the worst of the world. Maybe The Joker was a peaceful man once. Batman certainly had been. The absolute hardest thing to realize and admit for Batman, though, was that despite his hatred for The Joker, there was a respect there too. Even Batman could not be perfectly stoic in his dark mission against crime and the pursuit of vengeance against evil; even a part of him admired The Joker, at least in his absolute dedication to his craft and his tireless pursuit of his goal, though the goal of anarchy and destruction was not a worthy one.

Perhaps it was that small and shameful respect that sparked the feelings inside. About Arkham City. About the night. About The Joker's passing.

In a token that shocked Batman himself, he knelt down beside the Joker's lifeless body and reflected on the vast history he had with him.

Joker's death count was enormous. The sheer number of innocents he'd killed over the years depressed Batman everytime he thought about it. The people he'd played. The monsters he'd created-some of them literal. The Joker was a disease. A terrible, seemingly permanent disease that forever eclipsed the man inside.

Despite the things the villain had done, if Batman could have saved him, he would have. He pondered that question before, whether or not he would save The Joker, or any nemesis of his from the gaping infection of insanity. He soon realized that if he pulled back his hand and continued to let them drown in madness, then he probably deserved to drown with them.

Yet none of them struck a cord with him like The Joker. The Joker was _his_ enemy. _His_ problem. What ever would he do now that the problem...had been solved?

"See you in hell…" came the somber reply.

…

"Joker! Joker! Joker!" The chants around the entrance of the Monarch Theatre rang out in the aftermath and destruction left by Protocol 10. It had been going on for almost an hour, but who was there to stop the Joker's gang?

"Joker! Joker! Jo-"

The chants died completely when Batman walked out of the Theatre doors, Joker's corpse in his arms. Harley dropped to her knees, eyes wide and sobbing uncontrollably. A lone figure watched from above.

Snow fell like rain as the harsh cold of winter finally set in. The smell of ash and fire polluted the air from the Sionis Steel Mill far off in the distance. It was a castle without a king now.

Anyone who saw Batman walking through the streets dared not go near him. The Joker's gang was left stunned and confused at their leader's death. The promises of domination and unrivaled chaos and destruction had inspired them this far, but with that head gone, they crumbled. None of them knew what to do now that The Joker was gone.

The gates of Arkham slowly opened as the police prepared to enter. They raised their guns at the figure who walked out, but stood down when they realized it was Batman. The vigilante hero walked on.

"My God…" Commissioner Gordon muttered as Batman laid the corpse of Gotham's most devastating evil on the hood of a police car.

"Batman! What the hell happened in there? Batman!"

The Commissioner's cries went unanswered and Batman grappled off into the night without a second look at the monstrocity that was Arkham City.

…

The nasty chirp of bats echoed through the Batcave as Bruce walked painfully up the stairs, into his work area. He removed the cowl and found his chair in front of the Batcomputer first, sitting down and leaning back without a care as Alfred swiftly came to attend to his master.

"I trust you are alright sir?"

Bruce opened his eyes wearily and looked Alfred straight in the eyes, and the butler nodded and left Bruce alone. He reached out to the keyboard and jotted in instructions as the criminal database was pulled up.

He went to the index and brought up The Joker's page.

The smiling man looked back at Bruce as he typed in the new status: "Deceased".

A single tear hit the keyboard and was the only sound that penetrated the immense darkness of the cave.


	2. It can't end this way! (Arkham Knight)

**With the release of Arkham Knight, my days were consumed with exploring and enjoying Rocksteady's final chapter with the Dark Knight. I was _thrilled _to have The Joker return the way he did. Mark Hamill is a living legend, and his portrayal of The Joker, as always, was spot on. Particularly, the final exchange between Batman and his old foe touched me, and made me think. I decided to add onto this story of mine, and put together a part 2. Well, I did, and I did it all within the span of a couple hours, so it might not be so well polished and shiny, but I put my heart into it nonetheless. **

**As if it needs to be said, MAJOR SPOILERS for Arkham Knight below. I don't own the Arkham games or anything related to Batman. I'm nowhere near as awesome as the people who do. Also, while it may not be out right away, I will put together a third piece so as to make this a trilogy of one-shots. So, this story now contains three pieces, the third of which I will finish crafting and relate to you all when possible. Thank you for reading, reviews are appreciated.**

* * *

"Where are you!?" Joker shouted as the thunder rang out above him, reminding him of his trapped existence within the confines of Batman's psyche. His eyes moved to the corner, chasing a long gone shadow, and when they returned in front of him, a statue of his one and only equal stood, waiting and watching him.

Joker found a new smile as he blasted the head off, then the arm, then the torso, and finally, the legs. Thunder rang out again and the rain kept pouring down, slicking the walls and floors, sinking into the essence of the concrete. Batman's mind was predictable, but entirely intense.

"Come out!" Joker shouted as he turned around, finding an identical statue waiting just behind him. Startled, Joker blasted it into pieces with prejudice and haste. He continued to twirl around, looking for anything to save him, but all he could see was the thick fog rolling in and covering the floor beneath him.

Two of the four walls were solid concrete, their counterparts were comprised of bars, with beetle emblems a la Arkham Asylum, trapping Joker in like a dog in a cage. Behind the bars was a mystic realm, a forbidden territory that perhaps even Batman had not gone into more than once. It seemed that plane was untouchable, ignored and repressed by both Batman and the very nature of his existence. It was hell within hell.

"I'll find you!" Joker barked and shot down the third Batman statue to spring up when he wasn't looking.

"Show your face!" Joker demanded as two more stone renditions of the Caped Crusader fathomed themselves into existence when the clown had his back turned. His shotgun was hot to the touch, and smoke seeped from the barrel and filled the air with the chaotic stench of destruction, yet a whiff of futility also hung in the eternal night.

He took turns, shooting away a piece of one stone figure, then alternating to the other, and so on. He couldn't help but growl at his growing misfortune. Until recently, he'd been running amok in Batman's brain and soul, but now the Dark Knight's mind was fighting back, and the fabrics that comprised him were turning on the cancerous growth of Joker's influence. He was fighting a losing war, and he hated to admit that Batman was almost as good as The Joker at this game.

Not ready to give up, Joker returned to taunting and demeaning his foe; he could always work in his mental hattricks when necessary, "Out of ideas, Bats!?"

Another statue formed right in front of him, and he dispatched it ferociously. Then another appeared to the side, then two more behind him. All around him more and more Batman statues, flooding the cage and overwhelming him.

What little light that had previously been let in had gone dark, and now the only things that brightened the scene at all were Joker's shotgun and the striking thunder, which seemed to be disappearing bit by bit as well. It was as though the core components of Batman's psyche were being repurposed into driving The Joker out, sacrificing the world to defeat the enemy.

More and more and more, some lit up by the light on Joker's gun and its flash, most shrouded in the pitch black darkness. Still more, popping into reality as the chunks of granite amassed on the floor, peeking up from the layer of fog. The statues were surrounding him and he was getting desperate, finally, he moved right in front of one and blew the head clean off.

At last the real Batman emerged, flying out of the crumbling corpse of the same statue and into the air, kicking Joker several feet back as thunder lashed out again, stronger than ever before. The statues were gone, and Batman's near-invisible punch hit the Joker so hard that he shot right into the concrete wall, breaking it partially. He pulled himself up to find his foe gone, as though none of it had happened at all.

He peered out as the rain began to pour harder and darkness widened its reach. At last, the Joker turned to the cracked wall, where rays of bright light shone through. He fired three times and the wall was reduced to ruin. But as soon as he did, the light turned to some green fog, an almost toxic smoke screen, and not four steps beyond the wall, and Joker dropped down into a world that could not possibly border the one he'd just endured.

It was as if he was back in Arkham, strolling down the old halls, long and tired, as if he had gone back two years in time. It was delightfully refreshing.

"Ha ha! So long Bats! Hell of a ride, but I'm getting off!"

A wheelchair cast aside lay covered in dust, as did endless number of documents and assorted papers on the tattered floor, which was missing at least a fourth of its tiles. He had to move to the center of the hall to avoid the hanging chain, which seemed to be swaying with the cool wind that lightly blew through the forgotten sanctuary.

When he reached the end of the hall, an immense darkness awaited him, but he found a switch, "EXIT" labeled above it. He pulled it down merrily and the light flipped from blood red to eerie-emerald green.

"You know, you almost had me scared back there! Me! Ha! What've I got to be afraid of!?"

But the hall disappeared, and the environment shifted from pitch black to an endless haze of dark blue. The supposed exitway now stood as the metal framed sign of Arkham Asylum, and prison cells hung in nooses of chain. Tall towers, maybe ancient trees of some kind, stood erect all around him. To the right, a guard station appeared to have crashed into the side of this new reality, and the dark window sat glimmering in the magical blue distortion.

He spun around several times, gripping the shotgun close to his side. Then, beside the guard shack, the remaining darkness opened to reveal a sign, "Arkham Asylum Intensive Treatment", along with a tile hall. From the epicenter, a cage rolled out of the light, and Batman spoke for the first time to his old foe since he had returned.

"You're afraid of being ashes. You're afraid of being forgotten..."

The cage slammed into the ledge where Joker stood, which was now transformed into a stone walkway, with guardrails to the sides. The clown stepped back a pace and settled himself in as Batman gave the final threat.

"And you will be forgotten Joker," the cage door fell as if the force holding it place vanished on command, revealing Batman again, "because of me."

Batman began walking fearlessly at the clown, who returned the gesture and treaded forward, gun facing his enemy at all times. Within the blink of an eye, Batman was in Joker's face, and had a hold of the gun, prying it from the criminal's arms and hoisting him into the air with one hand. Batman's eyes glowed green, a sign that his newfound darkness and rage were, in fact, the effects of Joker's assault.

"I am vengeance," Batman growled as The Joker struggled helplessly to escape the iron grip, "I am the night," he barked as he pulled Joker closer, "I am Batman!" he proudly roared.

They held each other's gaze for an eternal second, and with the same unnatural speed as before, Batman headbutted the Joker back, almost into the hanging cell. It wasn't long before the clown was up again, and he was prepared to fight for his existence.

His laugh was dark and sincere as he ran at Batman, and was punched in the gut, then the face and sent backwards again. Still he laughed as the Dark Knight slapped him again, but the laughter stopped when he grabbed Joker by the shoulders and held him up once more. Another headbut sent The Joker into cell, but holding onto the door frame. Batman showed no mercy as he went in for the final strikes.

His punches were given with power. His jabs were bestowed with speed. His presence begot demoralizing ferocity, and his endless hatred of The Joker, and even his own dependence on him, was written with every strike. 21 punches and one devastating roundhouse kick threw The Joker several feet back, into the opposite wall of the cage.

He crawled forward as best he could, voice squeaking with worry as Batman lifted the door back onto the cell to reattach it, "No, Bats, wait!"

It slammed shut and sealed itself with a resounding thud, and the echo reverberated off the walls of Batman's emptiness. The Joker screamed from the only hole in the cage, the partially covered slot for food to be dropped inside, "No! Please! Nooo!"

The gears spun into place at last and completely locked The Joker inside. The game was over.

"But why!? I learned everything about you when I resurfaced! I know your regrets! I know you care for me!"

"I can't say what I feel about you. But I know that I've always hated you. Always."

"But you still depend on me! My words have never been truer, that we are the only ones who can see depth in each other, we are the only equals we've got! There is no Joker without Batman, and vice-versa! Let me go!"

"I can't. You may have won a few battles, Joker, but you did not win the war, nor will you win this one, because you won't be taking my body. I can't allow that, and you're too dangerous to leave alone in my head. Tonight, I end you once and for all. If I didn't kill you back in Arkham City, I will kill your memory here."

"Then you'll be killing yourself too, Bats, and all that will be left is that shell, the tormented boy with the sad heart and face full of tears. I embody what you need to fight, and you embody what I need to prove myself against! That's how it works, that's how it's always worked! We live for each other!"

"You're already dead, and your worst fears will take what's left of you in me. Scarecrow was right about one thing: you can manipulate anyone with what they fear, and you have one, big, gaping fear."

"I deserve to be remembered! Nobody can forget me! Most of all, _not you! If you don't remember me, Bats, then I've done everything for nothing! I'll have meant NOTHING!" _

"Good."

"No! No! No! No! NO!"

"I may have grown to depend on you, and that was my own fault. You did embody the criminal scum I detested most. You gave me more of a reason to fight than anyone else ever could've. If that means anything to you, I do want you to know that."

"But you're still going through with this!?"

"Yes."

"So Batman and The Joker die together, you _really _don't care?"

"It's what we were destined to do, go out together, surely you understand."

"...But….but not like this! This isn't….THIS….NO!"

"I'm afraid so."

"This past year changed you. You're not the Batman I remember."

"That's funny, you're exactly the same as I remember. But I won't remember you for much longer."

"But what's the plan afterwards? What are you gonna do? What could you possibly do without me!? What will you become in my absence?"

"I don't know, but tonight, the Joker and Batman die. I'm through with it all. I've beaten you by taking off the mask for the first time since I was a boy. I've stepped away from the game, and that means you lose."

It looked as though for the second time that Batman could recall, The Joker was crying. These tears were healthy, though, inspired with regret, confusion, and fear. He kept shaking his head and letting them fall, trying anything possible to hold onto the existence slipping away from him.

"But I'm...not truly forgotten! Harley! She remembers! Barbara Gordon will always remember what I did to her! Jason Todd will live forever with my mark on his face! You can't just wish my memory away!"

"No, but I can banish you from my memory; I can put you behind me, and as you said, I'm the only one who matters to you, because I'm your only equal. Looks like we're not quite equals in the end though. This is it. If you have anything left to say, do it now."

The cell shuddered and Joker bounced around and leaned hard against the door, banging and pleading, "No! Please! Please don't do it! Think it over again!"

"I'll take that as a 'no' then."

"WAIT!" Joker begged as tears fell from his face like the rain did earlier. Batman had begun to turn away, but faced his caged foe one more time.

"What is it?"

"...Let me tell you….a joke."

Batman's eyes narrowed and he pondered the request for a moment, and allowed it in the end, nodding his approval. The Joker smiled again, but he was still shedding tears.

"So, this boy is having a birthday party...and his parents hire a clown to come over and share some laughs. But the boy, he hates clowns, can't stand 'em at all. So when the clown shows up, the boy retreats to the side and hides, only for the clown to come find him.

The boy says, "Don't come near me! Stay Away!"

And the clown says, "I just want to make you laugh! Have a good time! Enjoy yourself!"

But the boy says back, "If you come near me, I'll wish I'd never been born!"

And the clown answers in a panic, "But if you'd never been born, how would I be here?"

And as the cake comes out, the boy tells him, "Exactly! So stay away!"

And the clown cries out, "Don't blow me away!"

Joker finished with a big smile, and Batman remained standing still, taking in the last laugh he'd ever share with the Clown Prince of Crime. Joker seemed to expect something, and tensed up as Batman remained motionless and blank. But at last, Batman's stern look weakened, and soon, it slipped into a tiny smile.

"See! Right there! You need me after all! DON'T BLOW ME AWAY, BRUCE!"

The smile quickly faded away, and within seconds it seemed as though it never could have existed. The Joker's heart began to pound harder and harder.

"Thanks for the joke, old friend, but no. We cannot fight our destiny. You and I were meant for each other, we were meant to take each other down forever. I'll leave it all behind, even you."

"That tab on the Batcomputer about me! It doesn't have to read deceased! I can't battle with you out there in Gotham, but we can dance until time dies in your head! We could do it forever! And just think, nobody could get hurt! You can't kill off who you've been for most of your life just like that!"

"You did, once, didn't you?"

"That's different!"

"It's exactly the same. You resigned yourself to being The Joker, nothing more, and now here you are, at my mercy. Unlike you, I'm willing to let it all go. I'm willing to be forgotten."

"Then the real Gotham will burn, worse than tonight even! I can't believe you'd let Batman die, but I know the city can't afford it! They need a Batman, and without me, there can't be Batman! In a way, I'm saving the city!"

"We're going in circles, and you're prolonging the inevitable."

"No!"

"Goodbye Joker," Batman said as he moved over to the cage.

"No! Bruce! Don't leave me! Please..."

Batman finally shoved the cage back and it was sucked back into the fathomless beyond where it emerged. Joker's hands waved anxiously from the opening, as Batman turned his back on his rival for the last time. The cell was pulled beyond the doors, into the mists of the untouchable realm, past the gears and cogs and workings of Batman's psyche, out of his mind, out of his memory, out of the fabrics of his being. The last thing Batman remembered about The Joker was his final, damned, attempt at being saved by his old friend.

"...I need you."

The doors slammed shut and The Joker was physically, mentally, emotionally, and psychologically dead to Batman. That was the end. Things were returning to normal. That was the end.


	3. The End is never here! (Post AK)

**Welcome to the third and final installment in this one-shot turned mini-trilogy. My apologies on getting it out so late, but I've been working on other ideas as well as finishing up my main story on fimfiction. Busy times for me, in other words. If you've made this far, I'm glad you've enjoyed it, and I hope I don't let you down with this finish. I re-wrote it a couple times, and found it hard some days to add on to it. In the end, I decided that one ending wasn't enough, so I made two. You are free to read them both through and decide, or, for the more daring among you, simply pick one and run with it :3 **

**I didn't label either ending as "good" or "bad" or any such thing, but nevermind the endings now. I hope you all enjoy the final piece of the story, and I hope your day and/or night goes well. Stay awesome guys and gals. (I still don't own anything except far off dreams and the ambition to make them true...no Batman or DC. I know, it makes me sad too.) **

* * *

_Welcome back to Gotham's Greatest Mysteries! Exactly seven years ago, at this very spot, Bruce Wayne died. An explosion decimated Wayne Manor and charred two bodies, those of Bruce Wayne and his butler, beyond recognition. Dental records confirmed the identities of both victims, and a two year long trial was held, trying to determine who exactly killed the Batman. _

_In the end, nobody was found guilty, and to this day the exact truth of that incident has eluded Gotham City. However, Batman himself was not the only lead officials had. After the revelation of Bruce Wayne's secret identity, searches were conducted on Wayne's closest associates, including Richard Grayson, Timothy Drake, Lucius Fox, and current Mayor James Gordon's daughter, Barbara Gordon, among a few others._

_While they all gave bits and pieces away, none of them would confirm or deny knowing anything about the Wayne Manor explosion, nor would any of them go on to reveal much about their lives as crime fighters. Currently, no one can be sure of the whereabouts of Richard Grayson, who seems to have simply vanished from the face of the Earth, however, both Tim Drake and Barbara Gordon have retired from their roles, and are soon set to become Mr. and Mrs. Drake. _

"_That life is behind us, we followed him until he died, literally. We remember him of course, but we're content to move on." Drake said in a recent interview. _

_Meanwhile, Lucius Fox inherited much of the spoils of the now defunct Wayne Enterprises, and started his own company, Foxteca. Of all the Batman's former allies, it could be said that Fox remains the most conservative about Wayne's exploits. He, more than the others, avoids talking about the Batman and his past involvement with Bruce Wayne, to the point of enacting a personal policy of leaving an interview if the subject comes up. _

_On the other side of things, the notorious members of Batman's 'Rogue's Gallery' have remained mostly under control. Former Commissioner Gordon attributes this to "something the Batman left behind for us" and has never bothered to say anything more about it. Whatever the Batman's legacy has been, it is undeniable that it keeps his former enemies under control._

_Since his death, The Penguin, Two-Face, Scarecrow, and Catwoman, have never attempted any sort of illegal activity, and those that were captured on Batman's final night remain in Blackgate Penitentiary. Other noted Batman foes such as the Mad Hatter and Killer Croc have remained off the radar for years, and may well be as dead as Batman himself. _

_Though we know Batman did not have a penchant for killing, a few of his foes did, by some means, die over the course of his career. Poison Ivy has officially been reported deceased by the GCPD, and the body of Roman Sionis -the Black Mask- was found soon after Wayne's death. Also noteworthy is the fact that Edward Nigma, the Riddler, has been in a coma for six years now. _

_But we all know who's name comes to mind when we think of Batman's fiercest enemy. When one thinks about Gotham's biggest threat, it must certainly be this man. In all of its history, there has never been a more infamous figure plaguing our city. After the commercial, we'll talk about the only man Batman has (supposedly) killed: The Joker. We'll return shortly, Gotham, stay tuned! _

The feed cut to the commercial break, and Vicki Vale's figure was replaced by experimental drug advertisement. Before anything could be said of the experimental medicine, the television was turned off and the screen faded to a dead black.

"Master Bruce…?" Alfred replied from the chair, attempting to stand, but unable to will himself up.

"They've all moved on, we must too," Bruce Wayne replied as he walked over and took the counterpart seat beside Alfred. Bruce handed his oldest friend a bowl of soup, and picked up a book for himself.

"You know, there was a time when you serving me meals was unthinkable," Alfred noted somewhat solemnly as he pulled the blanket more tightly around him and reached the bowl.

"There was a time when being Batman no more was unthinkable. I guess we all have to live with changes," Bruce answered as he found his page.

"Sometimes I wonder if you've truly parted from that life."

"Don't worry, I parted with it. I had to...to save myself."

"I can't help but wonder how our city is holding up after all this time. With Master Drake and his mistress no longer serving the mission, and Master Richard gone away for the time being, well….your old foes cannot remain docile forever, can they?"

"It's all in the Knightfall Protocol, Alfred, they'll be kept in prison until they've served their time or meet their natural ends. I made sure of it."

"Makes one question why we didn't try this sooner," Alfred jested as he blew on the first spoonful and ate it with a shaking hand.

"We have other friends too, and in my stead, they're watching over Gotham," Bruce assured, still not taking his eyes out of the book.

…

_The Joker: The Clown Prince of Crime, the Ace of Knaves, and the undeniable opposite of Batman. For years the two were at odds, battling at almost every twist and turn, and Gotham always felt their clashing. _

_However, their battles came to an end when Hugo Strange, another of Batman's now deceased rivals, created the infamous Arkham City, an incident that any Gothamite will remember. Rumored to be sick and dying from a previous encounter with Batman, The Joker was thought to be dead or as close to it as possible the night Bruce Wayne was incarcerated. As it happened, that very same night was the night The Joker died. _

_He was cremated a few months afterwards, but it seems that he earned quite the reputation before leaving us. Like Elvis, supposed Joker sightings in Gotham City have sprung up every so often, but to this day the GCPD denies such claims, and they are seen as nothing more than falsities in the name of attention. And yet, crime may be drastically reduced, but it has not disappeared. Maybe The Joker's legacy has found its mark after all, through that one fact. _

_Of course, how can we forget about his lover in madness, Harleen Quinzel, or as she is better know, Harley Quinn? She too resides in Blackgate, in the reopened Arkham wing. Like other old foes, she remains in captivity and serves as the biggest reminder of her boyfriend's existence. According to reports she has attempted suicide on more than one occasion, and we discovered that she has had at least one neck surgery since Batman's death; now and again, she is transferred out of Blackgate for "routine outings for the betterment of her health". Nothing more could be scrounged up on her many trips out of Blackgate, but official reports assure us that they are harmless, and that she has never gotten close to escaping. _

_But what do we know of the relationship between the vile clown and the Dark Knight protector of our city? Like the false sightings of the Joker, over the years a number of conspiracy theories have arisen that Batman and the Joker were actually working together for some time. Proponents of these theories suggest that by not killing The Joker for so long, they allowed themselves to be happy, in a way, feeding their sociopathic needs to do battle with one another while Gotham itself became a casualty of their war. But then, that also raises the question of why Batman would kill the Joker in Arkham City. _

_It's entirely possible that Joker was beyond saving, and by killing him, Batman was doing his alleged partner a favor. Yet, the Joker's demise and Batman's involvement with it is merely the tip of the iceberg in debunking these theories. Having been saved by Batman more than once myself, I will attest that they were not partners, regardless of whether or not you believe the Joker was murdered or simply succumbed to an illness. _

_The evidence against these conspiracies is overwhelming, so I'll just cover a few reasons why they may have been mortal enemies and possibly respected adversaries, but never partners. _

The set turned off suddenly, and the man sitting in the armchair moved to the window. He felt the urge to break right through it, but denied himself that luxury, opting instead to smash his fist into his hand. The echo stirred his partner at the kitchen table, who wheeled herself over to him.

"Tim? What's the matter?"

"This city….it won't let go of him."

"In case you've forgotten, neither have we. We might not be Oracle and Red Robin anymore, but we haven't given up hope. We'll find Bruce and Alfred, just be patient and trust Dick. He's doing his best to find them as we speak. You know that."

"I know, but….I can't shake this feeling, Barb. We agreed never to tell the world the truth about him, and even though he seemed okay the last time I saw him….well, I just can't shake this feeling. He was infected just like all the others, and no amount of willpower can cure something like that."

"Are you trying to say there's no cure for The Joker?"

"Yes."

"Bruce is the strongest of us all. He's the one person in the world I'd trust completely to overcome that disease. He's beaten Joker countless times before, he can do it again. I'm sure that's why he's away, he's just making sure the Joker is completely gone."

"But it's been seven years! And what about Alfred? Why take Alfred with him?"

"Knowing our faithful butler, it was probably more on Alfred's own insistence that he went along with Bruce. You've just gotta have faith, Tim."

"Maybe I have none left to give…"

Barbara tugged on her fiance's shirt and brought him down to her level to embrace him in a hug. He returned the affection with a soft smile, and they gazed out the window as the sun began to disappear behind the horizon. She was smiling, but his face was more unsure than anything else, at least it was at first. But in time, he grew a smile that matched her own.

…

"Alfred? Alfred, I'm going out for a little bit," Bruce whispered into the dark bedroom, flipping on half of the lights to see his oldest friend quietly sleeping under the covers. Bruce flipped the lights back off and gently shut the door, going on with his business.

He almost grabbed the coat off the hanger by the door, but caught himself and quickly stepped into his own bedroom first. His bathroom was smaller than the one in Alfred's room, but he didn't mind, and pulled out a razor and shaving cream without much thought. In the years since leaving Gotham, Bruce had adopted many of his once feigned habits, and drinking was one of them. He didn't know why, but he took his first glass of scotch without any reason or desire to have it.

He was no alcoholic, but there was seldom a day that went by when he didn't have at least a glass or two of something. He poured himself a shot and downed it in a second, afterwards letting the miniature cup fall to the counter. Rather than go straight to shaving, he breathed in deeply, and found himself coughing something fierce. When he stared into the mirror, something else looked back.

"Look at you," Bruce whispered to the mirror, "look at you've become."

"You did this to yourself," It replied with innocence.

"Maybe…"

"Not maybe, definitely. He was right."

"Who's 'he'?"

"Nevermind. It's not important."

"Why're you here? What do you want with me?"

"I only want to see you happy. You're not so happy anymore."

"Living without a purpose does that to you...I used to do something important. Now I wait on an old man who I barely have the courage to face and go on dates that end in rejection, cheap sex, or offers to get wasted and drugged up. Why should I be happy?"

"Maybe you'd be happier if you actually enjoyed yourself in retirement. Try a hobby, try changing up your life, try something to make the pain go away. It worked last time."

"What should I do?"

"Go to a show instead of a bar. Rent a boat. Buy a ticket to a concert. I don't know, but you can figure it out. You're sharp, even in your weakened state."

"Who are you?"

"Does it matter?"

"I'd like to know."

"Suppose I tell you who I am and you don't like it."

"Ignorance isn't always bliss."

"Well, nevermind who I am. It's not important."

"Are you me? Am I going crazy after all?"

"Nevermind."

"I want to know."

"I can't tell you."

"Are you...The Joker?"

"Who's The Joker?"

"I don't know...I thought maybe you were."

"No. Not me."

"Oh…"

"Well, you've got to get ready. You _are_ going out tonight, aren't you?"

"Yeah….yeah…"

Bruce resigned himself to applying the shaving cream when the thing in the mirror faded away. The funny thing was, he didn't mind it existing. A lot of people might have been freaked out by something like that, scared that they were losing their minds or afraid they were being watched. Bruce took it like a needle, barely taking note of it at all. He did that to a lot of things nowadays.

He applied the after shave when he had finished, dabbed on a touch of deodorant, and walked to the front door. He listened to hear Alfred sleeping, and upon confirming that the older man was still resting, he took out a note from his pocket and taped to the door for his friend. He went out like the soft breeze, and was gone like he had never been there.

...

Though intent on picking himself up and figuratively dusting himself off to rid his mind of the depression plaguing it, Bruce had no idea at all where he was going. He walked right by the bar he usually stopped in, and it wasn't long before he found himself in the seediest part of the town. He seldom visited this area, unless he'd hooked up with a girl who lived in these parts. He couldn't imagine what he'd do, but something was drawing him ever closer to the heart of the troubled district.

He passed by a strip club, a shady marketplace, a largely abandoned plaza filled with graffiti, and several housing facilities, but nothing caught his eye. The river flowing through the South American town was to his right, and on his left, he could find nothing of interest.

So he wandered on, unmoved by any of the temptations that came into his view, slowly walking on through the town. He passed by several people who gave him nasty looks, but he pretended not to notice, and paid them no mind. He pondered crossing the river, going out into the more untamed regions of the land, but decided that he'd keep along and see if anything jumped out at him first. As it so happened, something did.

He found a tattoo parlor, and promptly found his feet walking to go behind the establishment and into the alley. He had hardly rounded the corner when a young man with a knife stepped in front of him, and it didn't escape his notice that a friend of the young man had stepped up behind him.

"What can I help you boys with?" Bruce inquired, almost naively.

"Give us your wallet, your valuables, and your keys."

"I'm sorry?"

"Are you _stupid?_ We're taking everything you've got, and unless you start cooperating, we're gonna leave you for dead."

Something in the man's voice set off bells in Bruce's head, and he slowly reached into his pocket, garnering smiles from the two robbers. He felt around and grasped what he had just realized he was carrying, and with speed he hadn't known still existed within him, he pulled out the razor he'd shaved with and cut the throat of the man behind him.

The knife wielding punk jabbed the blade forward, but Bruce was already behind the robber's ally, shielding himself from the cut. He pushed the bleeding criminal at his friend, who crumbled under his fellow's weight. Bruce capitalized by bashing his foot into the trapped man's face, breaking several facial bones and knocking out a couple teeth. The bigger man, bleeding out but not deterred, rose, and attempted to swing at Bruce.

A quick dodge left the robber unbalanced, and a faster kick to the crotch left him on the ground and unconscious from the pain and blood loss. It took a moment for the scene to register with him, but when he realized what he'd done, Bruce leaned against the wall and started panting. The rush of adrenaline and the smell of blood were unknown to him for too long. He couldn't handle it.

"Oooh! Put a little salt in there why don't you?"

"Who're you?" Bruce asked the voice coming from nowhere, "you aren't the same as before. Are you?"

"No, no, no. I know who you're talking about, I can't stand that guy. He lies to you, he tries to hold me back."

"But who are you, and who is he?"

"He's a nobody, a twerp who exists to make you miserable. He pointed you in the right direction, I mean let's face it, you're in quite the slump….but after he pointed you, he spun you around and kicked your feet out from under you. Trust me, do what I say, and you'll be back before you know it!"

"What do you think I should do?"

"I think you should invite me over and sit in the driver's seat. I think you should let me take control for a little while, show you how things ought to be. Give me the power to make you do what will make you happy, Bruce!"

"Who are you?" Bruce asked for the third time, almost shouting it by now.

"You know who I am. You know me well in fact, but perhaps only by name and reputation...It's your old Uncle J, Brucie, I'm back! The Joker!"

"Why should I listen to you?"

"Well just look where listening to the other guy got you. He lead you into this mess, and I can make it all better."

"Don't listen to him!" The first voice, the unknown identity from the mirror in his bathroom shouted back.

"But I...I don't….I can't….I…"

"Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, it's simple!" Joker assured, "Listen to me, and the hurt goes bye-bye. Listen to this schmuck, and you'll be led into one disaster after another."

"The choice belongs to you, but you have to decide now. Will you follow The Joker, or will you fight him as you always have?" The voice asked.

Bruce grunted as he grabbed his hair and clenched his hands on his skull, falling to his knees in pain as part of him did battle with another. Whatever he'd done as Batman that brought himself into this position must've been important.

"Give in!" Joker commanded.

"Fight him!" The other voice pleaded.

Bruce screamed and threw his arms into the air as he made the choice that affected the rest of his life.


	4. Ending 1

Bruce fell to the floor and writhed in pain as he submitted to the will of The Joker. His skin grew more and more pale, until it was soon bleached, and his hair and eyes were diluted to a vile green. His body had long since fallen out of shape, but under The Joker's control, it almost seemed to go as slim and unhealthy as the clown's original body had been.

All of the sudden, everything about The Joker came back to him. He'd long retained his memories as Batman and what that role meant, but the Joker was censored to great effect, having become hardly anything more than a ghost to him since his retirement. Now he remembered it all.

And yet, he couldn't say he wholly regretted the decision. Perhaps the Joker was too far ingrained into him to have resisted the clown's will, but Bruce almost felt that promised relief and joy as he and the Joker became one in the same.

He pulled himself up with a deranged look and spun around to see the two thugs, barely clinging to life. The Joker found his old chuckle as he released the knife from the man's hand and used it to finish them both off hastily. Weak, but gaining his old swagger and confidence back by the second, The Joker stood up again, breathing in life for the first time in far too long.

"I've got a lot of things to do...back home...but first, I might as well enjoy my time here!"

Joker waddled into the tattoo parlor and went right back to work, spilling blood and ink, and laughing all the way through. In a few minutes, he was out the door again and off to the next thing, leaving behind only the sounds of the television, as the special documentary on Batman concluded.

Though we were deceived for a long time, Bruce Wayne upheld the values of Batman and all that he stood for as a symbol of hope and power in Gotham. May he rest in peace, and always be remembered as Gotham's savior. He deserves nothing less. This is Vicki Vale saying goodnight Gotham, enjoy your evening, and stay safe out there.


	5. Ending 2

He brought his fists down hard and pounded them into the ground, doing it again and again until his knuckles were bleeding. It was the most painful sensation he'd faced in so very long, but he was rejecting The Joker.

"Give in! Only I can take away your pain!" Joker urged.

"No! You are better than that. You are better than him! You _are _Batman! Now and forever in your heart! The cowl doesn't make you the hero, you make yourself the hero!" The inner voice consoled.

"I survived your banishment once before! I can do it again!" Joker bragged, "I'll only come back stronger each time you send me away from yourself. I wait and slowly grow in power in the realm beyond your mind and soul, and you can't touch me there, I'll _always be back to take you!_"

"Then…" Batman whispered to the weakening remnant of his old foe as he stood up, "it's a good thing...that I'll always be there...to stop...you!"

"I'll be back, Batman! I'll always haunt you!"

"And I'll be ready!"

The Joker's defiant shout faded into nothingness as he was thrown back into the hapless recesses beyond Batman's mind. Once again it was over, and once again, the Joker had been ended. Perhaps he was right, and they would go on forever, their game a never ending chase that would last until Batman too died, and then they'd do it all over again in the afterlife. Even so, Batman remained undaunted. For now, it was over. It was all over. It was the end...until they began again down the line.


	6. Love-Sickly (Harley Quinn side story)

**Man...it's been so long since I did anything worth while. It's been a particularly long hiatus in my Joker writing, which is a shame, because to this day he remains among my absolute favorite fictional characters. There is no better villain out there, not in comic books at least. Now, I actually had a Catwoman side story in the works for a while, but kind of trailed off...I'll probably get around to finishing that too, one of these days. For now, I present a very quick side story for Harley Quinn, and what happened to her post Arkham Knight. **

**I guess this has kind of become its own little collection of Post-Arkham work, huh? I still remembering thinking this would be only one chapter long, ha ha. Well, might as well tack on things here and there, so here's the first of them. **

**Fair warning though, in my own opinion as the author of everything inside this collection, I easily consider this the darkest among them. Especially if you got everything that I was going for, I think there's a good chance several people will kind of dismiss the deeper things I tried to paint behind the bigger, more obvious things. (Ambiguity is a cruel mistress.) That said, I don't like to edit much, so the blame is mostly on me for that. Anyways...I hope you enjoy regardless! Reviews are still welcome!**

* * *

Love-Sickley: A Harley Quinn story

Another mundane minute passed by, and the same few thoughts ran through her head. She was so bored. She really wanted a hard drink right about now. Bud and Lou were probably starving to death without her. Poor babies. It was sooo boring in here. Nothing left to smile at...except one thing that made her crack a quick grin.

Huh….who could've imagined it turned out that way? Bruce Wayne was Batman. What a let down. Mr. J was right. No one is who you think they are. Once the cat is out of the bag, the fun goes away too.

Handed over to the GCPD by Robin and Nightwing hours after the supposed bombing of Wayne Manor, Harley had spent the next three days straight in the isolated cell in the GCPD basement, and was thereafter moved to an undisclosed location. Her only clue was that the lone window in the distance was flooded with daylight half the time and the cool breeze of night the other half. Occasionally a bird would come into view, if for but a couple seconds. Food was slid in whenever she was asleep. The bucket under her bench satisfied the second half of that process.

What terrible accommodations. This sort of thing wouldn't be happening if her puddin was around. Or even Bruce Wayne's night-time alter-ego. Stupid town was going to hell. It just wasn't fair...and God was it lonely in here. She only noticed that she was brought to tears by this situation after her hands had two clear puddles sliding onto her pants and the bench below her.

Her boredom was momentarily broken by the muffled voices from beyond the locked door. Was this her ticket out? Was something finally going to change? She had been restrained in a pair of handcuffs, but her legs were unbound and she could move around the room freely. She got so near the door she practically caressed it, hoping to hear the jingle of keys or the groan of a reluctant abolitionist, but alas, it was not so. They didn't seem to be concerned with her. Even the cops had better things to do.

She sat back down, huffing and pouting to herself, the only one who would listen.

No Joker. No Ivy. Nobody. Not even a fraud of a bat around anymore. What good was living?

There was only one thing to do:

How would Mr. J answer that question?

"_Harley! You know you aren't supposed to be thinking!"_

Heh heh…oh puddin'

"_Look Harl, life's simple. And since I don't keep you around to do any thinking, I'll explain it easy for you: Life is all about one thing."_

What's that puddin?

"_Death! Well...not all the time. Mostly death. Death set to a good punch line. You can't fail if you live your life knowing how it ends. Death is the best punchline."_

…Is that why you left me? A better punchline?

Huh...lousy rat probably did leave her for an extra chuckle or two. 'A poetic death.' Well screw him. Who needs the deadbeat anyways? Now that he and Bat-bank account are gone, Gotham was hers to do with as she pleased!

Oh...but then...what would she do with it? Mr. J always came up with the grand schemes…and now that he had ben avenged and the Bat was gone...

Well…..it was probably safe to say the first thing to do was get out of this hell-hole. Not that she hadn't tried banging on, kicking, shoulder-charging-into the door...the window was too small for her to fit through. The bucket sure wasn't going to help. There had to be some way out.

"_Tsk tsk tsk...you're not thinking about it Harley!"_

Shut up!

"_Heh heh heh heh heh heh...ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"_

I've thought of plenty of good plans since you died! I took over your gang and everything you two-timing cheapskate! You rat! I don't need you any more! I'm the only clown-kingpin in town now!

"_Second fiddle criminal work. You aren't qualified to find your hand in front of your face without someone pointing you in the right direction. Me. Ivy. Penguin. Scarecrow. Hell, I'll bet even Batman got his fun in too. (I hope so...I made him promise me he'd slap you around some!)"_

No! I ain't listening! I'm rid of you now and forever. You...you...y-you died you bastard! You died!

"_Don't you ever listen to anything, woman? Death is the best punchline! Hehahahahaha!"_

Well that doesn't mean anything to the living. Stop trying to confuse me!

"_Oh, you mean you mere mortals? The ones so far behind the curve they haven't even gotten to the end of the joke? Classic Harley. So ignorant. So needy."_

Not true! I'm free now! Freer than I've been since I laid eyes on you-

"_Which is why you still dress up for me?"_

I'm my own woman now, I do what I want and-

"_But wasn't that fateful night last week about avenging me? So foolishly trying to get back at Batman for killing me? And you couldn't even do that right."_

And….and I..I have...control...over my life…

"_But life's all about death, isn't it? You can control how and when it ends, a bit, but you can't stop the end from coming to get you!"_

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!

"_Did I touch a nerve? Did I? GOOD."_

What do you want from me...?

_"You mean you don't know yet? Do I have to spell it out for you?"_

Stop! Just leave me…

Hey.

Wait a second. You never planned on dying...you were trying to get the cure. You were holding onto life like it was the only punchline that mattered. What good are you in death? You can't kill, you can't threaten, you can't loot, you can't do anything...you're a big phony!

"_First off, my dear, as you well know by now, even in death I can still torment you! (and what fun it is!). In death, I still own you. If that's not the funniest thing you've ever heard, I don't know what is!_

_Secondly, you've got to learn to adapt. Sure, I had a doozy lined up for Gotham with that Arkham City shtick, but I was only forgetting the root of my comedy. Life is the greatest joke ever told. Death completes it. In death, everything becomes clearer and funnier. So I'll say it again...death is the punchline! Death is the only reason to live! How many more times do I have to hammer it in!? Should I go and fetch that ludicrous mallet of yours?"_

"That isn't...that doesn't…..you can't….I…"

_Oh Harley…_

"No...no...I….wait a sec!"

_Why wait? Get it over with. Death is what you're after now, my dear. _

"N-No….I-"

_Will just keep going in circles until you come to your senses and do as I say. Go on. If you're not a critical thinker, and you really aren't, you sure are creative. There are plenty of ways to kill yourself. Drown yourself in the bucket for all I care._

"But...But Gotham. And Ivy. And…everything...and-"

_Look at it like this...would I steer you wrong kid? I've always loved you, haven't I? Always been looking out for you, right? Come with me, and you won't live to regret it. Boy Scout killer's honor. _

"No…..no….no…"

_Oh you poor, delusional woman...still debating how your life ended up? Still clinging to this mess? It's time to abandon ship! Hell, I'm shocked you didn't jump into the furnace with me. There's nothing for you here._

"Taken...everything…"

_That's right. Everything has been taken away. What good is it to live anymore? Come on over, I saved you a seat! It'll be like old times. You and me against the rest of the world, baby! Come see your puddin!_

"Oh..."

_What good was it to resist anymore, really. He had a good point. Lots of them, in fact. She wasn't cut out for it. She couldn't hope to be a second Joker. Not even close. Her question was answered. There is no point in the only real question was why she had waited so long to do it. Why had she suffered? Suffering was amiss without her dear puddin' there. _

_She could fix that. She jumped up, ready to embrace the end like a good little girl!_

_She frantically swayed, left and right, looking for the end. Looking for sweet, red salvation! What to do? How to end it all? Best do it poetically, try and make something of herself in the end, eh? _

_Nah..._

_Heh, screw that! She wanted to end it all faster than the dickens! _

_She found a wall first. She introduced it to her forehead. And again. And again. And again. And again. And one more time REALLY hard. And then again. And then one more time, just to be safe. Red and black all over, more so than usual that is, Harley began to sputter around the room. The muffled noises returned, she thought. The red was coming out of more than just her forehead now. _

_Yes….now it was coming on. Now the shrouded cloak of the Grim Reaper was ascending from the floor, now it was finally happening. Oh boy, she could hardly wait! Birth was the set up. Life was the exposition. And now…...the punchline! The glorious, crimson, breath-taking, all to-die-for punchline! Never mind that rattling at the door, the insignificant cries of self-righteous concern on the other end! It was all over now. Come to me, baby! Hee hee ha! They're too late, poor Harley fell off the deep end years ago, and all Gotham's doctors and Gotham's suits couldn't put her back together again. _

_Now she had rammed herself silly into their constricting cage. Crash! Boom! Heh heh heh heh...ah well...all's well that ends well. No, no boys! No need to waste your time on her. Let her lie! That's right. You all know its pointless. Death is the punchline! (sounding familiar yet?) Smile Harley, death likes to remember all his victims, I always tried to make them presentable for him! Don't sully my image now! Hee hee hee hee hee ha ha ha ha haaaa! _

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_Wait, what?_

_You say she's not supposed to die? True, those aids are doing their best...but you know what? _

_I say screw you! I control her even now, and I say she bites the dust. End of story. Go away!_

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_What? Oh you have a 'theory' do you? Ha ha ha! You think she goes on to live? To join the 'Suicide Squad'!? That's a cute name for a tea club. And just what the hell do you know? I'm the one behind the keyboard. I'm the one who ends the story. And I say it ends here._

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_So how does it end, then, you ask? Does she make it? Will she wake up a cured and renewed woman? *Gasp* Does her abusive dead boyfriend leave her at last as the good doctors bring her out of Hell's gates and back into Hell on Earth?_

_Hell if I care, I'm dead. Remember? _

_HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!_

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* * *

**So...that was interesting. Ha ha ha...well, I hope you enjoyed my little experiment. Fun fact though, I always thought Harley had a good role in the Suicide Squad comics, so I did add a little hint in the third part of the main trilogy about it, but nobody said anything about it. But...maybe that's not actually the road she goes down anymore...like I said, ambiguity is a cruel mistress. Thanks for reading! **


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